At first I sat down in a desk in the rear left corner of the room; but the desk was pointed toward the rear wall, so I exchanged places with the fellow sitting in the last seat of the left row which was pointed toward the front of the room.

The class had already begun. Schwille was in his judge's robe sitting in front of the room in what appeared to be a judge's bench. Many students were standing at blackboards on the walls of the room. The students were busily writing on the blackboards the answers to problems they had been given. All the problems dealt with the law of property and all the answers were in the form of numbers.

I likewise had solved the problems and had the answers written before me. However, I couldn't find the blue casebook which contained the problems themselves. Fortunately, the blackboards were apparently full and I didn't need to worry about my being called to go to the board.

I had just returned from Germany. I had wanted to talk to Schwille before class had begun to tell him what it had been like there; but now it was too late.

My ex-wife, Louise, sitting in the seat in front of me, turned around and spoke to me. I knew she was now married. As we talked someone walked up and asked her how John was (John was apparently the name of her husband) and she said he was just fine.

She seemed superficially happy and I had the feeling she was experiencing a transitory happiness. It was the first week of January and she had only been married for about a week. I asked her how her marriage was and she said it was just fine. I said, "Well of course the year's not over yet."

She didn't say anything, but she put her hand on my right hand as she talked. I was still attracted to her, but the attraction was much different now that she was married. I didn't think I should touch her in any way.

I told her how the night before I had stabbed my leg with a long narrow razor blade which I used for cutting out pictures to make collages. The razor had been left in the bed and I had rammed my leg into the razor in the middle of the night. The razor had gone about three centimeters into my left leg.

I pulled up my left pants leg to show her the wound. Blood had oozed out and flowed all down my leg; but the color of the blood was green and blue. It was quite pretty. Louise said she wished she had a camera so she could take pictures of the colorful blood. I also thought it would make a nice picture, but I had neither camera nor instamatic film.